


Last Word

by Sheepnamedpig



Series: Tumblr Fics [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gift Fic, Internet Trolls, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepnamedpig/pseuds/Sheepnamedpig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is wrong on the internet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Word

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipsanddip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsanddip/gifts).



> For [shipsanddip](http://shipsanddip.tumblr.com/) on her date de naissance. Happy bday, boo.

The first time Stiles rolls over and blinks awake to see Derek typing furiously on his laptop, he lets it go, rolls back over, and goes back to sleep. He knows how it is. Sometimes you just gotta click that next Wikipedia link, or reply to that post.

The second time he wakes up that night, he squints at the clock. 1:44 a.m. It’s still within reasonable bounds, so he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

The third time, he’s a little less willing to let it go. Unlike Derek, he’s got work in the morning and it’s 3:11 a.m. and he’d like to get a decent night’s sleep,  _please and thank you_.

”Put it away,” he grunts, flapping a hand at the laptop.

Derek doesn’t even look at him. “Soon. I’m almost done.”

Stiles falls asleep waiting for ‘soon’ to become ‘now’.

Stiles wakes up for the fourth time barely an hour later, and that shit is  _just not on_.

"Put. The laptop. Away," he growls, groggily pissed.

Derek scowls harder at his screen. “Not while this person keeps being wrong. Go back to sleep.”

Stiles slaps at the lid, which earns him a  _look_  from Derek.

"No. Not until you put the laptop away. There will always be someone wrong on the Internet, but there will not always be someone willing to put out for you, so put the goddamn laptop  _away_.” 

Derek scowls, and in the harsh light of the laptop, it looks even more pouty than usual. Stiles scowls right back, though he’s pretty sure the uneven blinking of his sleep-gritty eyes makes it somewhat less intimidating. But Derek knows what side his bread is buttered on and closes the laptop, leaning over to place it on the floor beside the bed. Stiles grunts in victory and tugs at Derek until he’s spooning Stiles, tucked comfortably around him like a favorite blanket.

4:06

4:07

4:08

Stiles watches the minutes tick by while Derek basically vibrates against him, still mentally caught up in whatever the hell argument he’d been having with whoever the hell he’d been having it with. He can practically feel Derek’s fingertips tapping out words where they’re pressed against his sternum.

 _Fuck it_ , he decides, and reaches for the nightstand. 

"Get turned on," he snaps, digging through the drawer.

"What? Stiles, it’s four in the morning."

"You’re going to sleep if it kills me. Now hurry up and get turned on."

"I can’t just get turned on because you tell me to," Derek bitches, but Stiles feels his hands move to his crotch, fondling his dick awake. It doesn’t take him very long, not much longer than it takes for Stiles to find what he needs, and when Stiles nudges him over onto his front, he’s decently hard and already running a little warm.

Stiles, lying on his side, pushes Derek’s pajama bottoms down just far enough to expose his ass. It’s warm and fuzzy under Stiles’ hand, but it is literally too early in the morning for him to appreciate that. He just wants to get this done so they can both get to sleep.

Derek grunts when Stiles slips a slicked finger between his butt cheeks, zeroing in on his hole and rubbing the tight pucker. It twitches against Stiles’ finger, pursing and relaxing in sweet little kisses, and when Stiles pushes, his finger slips in, Derek opening to him with the ease of extensive practice. He works a second finger in, getting Derek’s hole nice and slick for the slim vibrator, which replaces Stiles’ fingers.

Derek’s hips undulate against the mattress as Stiles adjusts the angle, hunting for that one spot that makes Derek twitch and swear. 

"Fuck," Derek hisses, his leg spasming. Stiles smirks and pushes the vibrator just a hair deeper, pressing it firmly into Derek’s prostate and making him cuss again. Then, holding it in place with one hand, he reaches over and flicks it on with the other.

Derek practically levitates off the bed, crying out low and throaty as Stiles keeps his prostate pinned under the head of the vibrator.

"Oh, oh  _fuck_ , oh fuck oh fuck yes, shit,  _there_ ,” Derek moans arching and writhing like a beached eel. Stiles smiles drowsily at the sight, even as his eyes drift shut.

"Fuck, Stiles, I need-"

"Ok," Stiles mumbles sleepily. He wedges a hand under Derek’s hips and massages the head of Derek’s cock, smearing the pre-come down the shaft. Between that and the relentless buzzing of the vibrator, it doesn’t take long for Derek to come with a muffled shout, his face buried in his pillow and hips arching up off the bed, his upturned ass making a tent of the sheets.

Stiles eases the vibrator out of him and flicks it off, wiping everything down with the wet wipes they keep handy. This time, when he pulls Derek to spoon him, Derek is relaxed and cuddly, curling easily around Stiles. 

Much better.

&&&

Derek sleeps through Stiles’ whole morning routine, so Stiles doesn’t get a chance to ask him about whatever was keeping him up the night before until he gets home from work.

"Oh, that," Derek says, not looking away from his book as Stiles wedges himself onto the couch for some cuddle time with his boo. "Some dumbass was saying that big guys can’t like getting fucked by twinks."

And Stiles knows, okay. He  _knows_  that you can’t engage these wrong people on the internet. It just provokes them, and then you end up getting stressed out and distracted, but that person is  _so obviously wrong…_

"Okay," Stiles says, "Show me this asshole. We gotta fix this."


End file.
